Read Online Diary of an Assassin by Victor Methos - Free Book Online
Authors: Victor Methos
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the man’s neck. The other men scattered, ducking behind furniture and fleeing into the other rooms. Stephanie glanced behind her, out over the balcony.
Rhett peered through the scope as Stephanie’s countenance came into focus. She came out onto the balcony, her face white. She was suffering from shock. Rhett pulled away from her and scanned the condo. Two men were dead: three more were hiding. One was waiting outside the building near the front entrance.
“Come on,” he whispered to himself, “get outta there. Get out.”
Stephanie stood motionless, staring off into space. The other woman in the condo, crying, ran up and grabbed her, pulling her for the door. Rhett saw a pistol rise behind the couch, swing around, and aim for the two women. He fired into the man’s wrist, blowing the hand clean off. The man screamed as Rhett fired another shot into his open mouth, spattering brain matter on the clean walls behind him.
The women got to the door and Rhett lost sight of them as they sprinted down the hall toward the elevators. He fired two more rounds into the condo, aiming at nothing, letting the men know he was still there. Then he left the rifle and ran to the staircase leading down to the street.
By the time Rhett got to the sidewalk, Stephanie and the other woman were running out of the building. The sixth man was leaning against a t ree smoking. He saw the women and let them run past him. Slowly, he threw his cigarette on the ground and began to jog behind them. He pulled a firearm out of his waistband.
Rhett pulled out his pistol and readied to fire when he felt an impact like a truck against his back. The wind was knocked out of him and he flew to the ground. Someone was on top of him. He felt the burning sting of a bullet enter his arm and saw the silenced pistol that was pressed against his flesh. Then the pistol was rising toward his face.
Rhett grabbed the gun with both hands. He grunted as he pushed the barrel back toward his attacker. The man forced his entire weight against it, turning it back toward Rhett. The barrel was coming up to his face again. Rhett couldn’t push it away at the angle he was at, but just as the barrel came up to his jaw and the man squeezed the trigger, Rhett twisted his head away. The round shot into the sidewalk, splintering bits of concrete into his face, and ricocheted into the road, hitting a passing car. The car stopped.
Rhett wrapped his legs around the man’s waist and pulled him down so his head was chest-level with him. He reached down and thrust his thumb into the man’s eye as far as it would go, popping the eyeball out of the socket.
T he man screamed and loosened his grip on the pistol. Rhett forced it down, and fired. The round entered at the top of the skull and lodged in the man’s mouth. Rhett rolled the corpse off himself, running past the crowd that had started to gather and after Stephanie.
CHAPTER 16
Vanessa Hailstorm had been to Paris three times in her life and each time she was in and out so fast she hardly had the chance to grab a meal at a restaurant. Her French was decent, though, having been worked on in the quiet town of Matane, Quebec, one of her favorite vacation spots.
A driver waited for her in a small European car and she slipped into the backseat without a word. They began to drive.
“Do you wish to stop and eat somewhere first, mademoiselle?”
“No, just straight to the prison please.”
The neighborhoods were bustling and pleasant to look at but the weather always seemed gray. It was the same each time she visited. The weather, to her, was the most important part of a city and she couldn’t imagine moving here as many young women her age dreamed of doing.
The La Santé prison was the most famous in all of France and had housed many infamous criminals and terrorists, including Guillaume Apollinaire, the poet and playwright who was suspected of aiding in the theft
Rhett peered through the scope as Stephanie’s countenance came into focus. She came out onto the balcony, her face white. She was suffering from shock. Rhett pulled away from her and scanned the condo. Two men were dead: three more were hiding. One was waiting outside the building near the front entrance.
“Come on,” he whispered to himself, “get outta there. Get out.”
Stephanie stood motionless, staring off into space. The other woman in the condo, crying, ran up and grabbed her, pulling her for the door. Rhett saw a pistol rise behind the couch, swing around, and aim for the two women. He fired into the man’s wrist, blowing the hand clean off. The man screamed as Rhett fired another shot into his open mouth, spattering brain matter on the clean walls behind him.
The women got to the door and Rhett lost sight of them as they sprinted down the hall toward the elevators. He fired two more rounds into the condo, aiming at nothing, letting the men know he was still there. Then he left the rifle and ran to the staircase leading down to the street.
By the time Rhett got to the sidewalk, Stephanie and the other woman were running out of the building. The sixth man was leaning against a t ree smoking. He saw the women and let them run past him. Slowly, he threw his cigarette on the ground and began to jog behind them. He pulled a firearm out of his waistband.
Rhett pulled out his pistol and readied to fire when he felt an impact like a truck against his back. The wind was knocked out of him and he flew to the ground. Someone was on top of him. He felt the burning sting of a bullet enter his arm and saw the silenced pistol that was pressed against his flesh. Then the pistol was rising toward his face.
Rhett grabbed the gun with both hands. He grunted as he pushed the barrel back toward his attacker. The man forced his entire weight against it, turning it back toward Rhett. The barrel was coming up to his face again. Rhett couldn’t push it away at the angle he was at, but just as the barrel came up to his jaw and the man squeezed the trigger, Rhett twisted his head away. The round shot into the sidewalk, splintering bits of concrete into his face, and ricocheted into the road, hitting a passing car. The car stopped.
Rhett wrapped his legs around the man’s waist and pulled him down so his head was chest-level with him. He reached down and thrust his thumb into the man’s eye as far as it would go, popping the eyeball out of the socket.
T he man screamed and loosened his grip on the pistol. Rhett forced it down, and fired. The round entered at the top of the skull and lodged in the man’s mouth. Rhett rolled the corpse off himself, running past the crowd that had started to gather and after Stephanie.
CHAPTER 16
Vanessa Hailstorm had been to Paris three times in her life and each time she was in and out so fast she hardly had the chance to grab a meal at a restaurant. Her French was decent, though, having been worked on in the quiet town of Matane, Quebec, one of her favorite vacation spots.
A driver waited for her in a small European car and she slipped into the backseat without a word. They began to drive.
“Do you wish to stop and eat somewhere first, mademoiselle?”
“No, just straight to the prison please.”
The neighborhoods were bustling and pleasant to look at but the weather always seemed gray. It was the same each time she visited. The weather, to her, was the most important part of a city and she couldn’t imagine moving here as many young women her age dreamed of doing.
The La Santé prison was the most famous in all of France and had housed many infamous criminals and terrorists, including Guillaume Apollinaire, the poet and playwright who was suspected of aiding in the theft
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